


My Witchy Valentine

by herladyofprose



Category: Chilling Adventures of Sabrina (TV 2018)
Genre: Cover Art, Embarrassment, F/M, Force-Feeding, Hand Feeding, Teasing, Weight Gain
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-17
Updated: 2019-02-17
Packaged: 2019-10-30 13:13:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,369
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17829212
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/herladyofprose/pseuds/herladyofprose
Summary: In honor of Valentine's Day, here is a story I wrote a month or so ago for my boyfriend. Lately I updated and added to it. This is a short story about characters from a TV series, one of whom is being fed and fattened and teased by the two others. I hope you enjoy it!Art by https://lasciviouslucius.tumblr.com/





	My Witchy Valentine

"For me?"

"Well, Faustus, you've been doing such an admirable job of leading the flock, we thought you deserved a little present."

"But this is..."

There were two boxes of chocolates shaped like big, red hearts, both of which had his name on them. He wasn't particularly well-versed in mortal customs, but he surmised this must have been the "Valentine's Day" he had heard about. A mortal take on an otherwise perverted Christian blasphemous holiday. Zelda and Ms. Wardwell had outdone themselves, as the boxes were two pounds each - more than enough to share.

"Just set them on my desk." He grumbled, turning back to his book.

"Oh, that's just like a man. You must accept our gifts a bit more warmly than that, Faustus."

"Mine are homemade, from an old Spellman recipe book," Zelda said with a proud smile.

"And mine," Wardwell cooed, "were made a bit further from home."

Faustus sighed, closed the book, and reluctantly lifted the lids off the boxes one after the other. The shiny chocolates surprised him, for he expected more of a rustic look than the elegantly shaped, handsomely decorated delicacies he surveyed. Each was like a little piece of hell, a tiny indulgence in a greater pastiche of gluttony, one of the sweetest sins. His fingers danced over the choices, and he made a selection from each box, convinced trying one of each would keep the two admittedly ravishing women from further interfering with his important work.

Biting into them produced a lavish cream, which he hastily licked up to prevent it from dripping onto his papers.

"Dear Satan," he mumbled, "these are delicious."

A smile passed between the women, who stood there patiently as Faustus finished the two chocolates, and gathered up a few more. He scarfed them down as if he were inebriated by a queer hunger, a need, and the taste of the fine shells and fillings melted across his tongue and ensorcelled him into craving. He slurped and sucked at his fingers after emptying his hands, then went in for more. The boxes and their sweet treasures transfixed him enough to allow the two women to ease back toward the office door. From there they wheeled in the cart of boxes, all sizes, but all in the same shape - that of big, red hearts.

"Think of it as a blood feast. A feast of hearts. But with fewer of those ghastly missing persons investigators..."

Faustus nodded, blind to the consequences, swallowing and gasping for air in between bites. His rapacity or his capacity, which would give first? He already tried to will himself to stop, but he could not. His masculine resolve faded weakly before their feminine.

"You sirens and your chocolates," Faustus said wryly, emptying the first two boxes of their last sweets and grabbing two more boxes. This time he tore off the lids with his long, slender nails, and upended them into his mouth, chewing noisily and desperately. Then he tasted the sweet, cherry-like blood, and knew this feast to be more than mortally meaning full. This was a witch's valentine, and his two favorite girls had not failed him. The blood, mixed with sugar and cream, satisfied his murderous appetites and his gustatory ones, and he found his stomach growing full and his belt growing tight.

"Another?" Zelda offered, hefting a particularly large box up onto the desk.

"Perhaps I could slow down a bit, I..."

"Oh, bother," came Wardwell's voice from behind him. She pressed her hand on the back of his head, ruffling his hair, and forced him face down into the box of rich sweetness. The chocolates broke against his cheeks and mouth, even his forehead, and he became a mess of blood and chocolate instantly. Fearing suffocation, he licked and ate fiendishly, forced to escape the situation by eating and debasing himself.

"So forceful. I like it. Another box, Faustus, we've got a long way to go."

Faustus had strained and struggled to eat and eat beyond what he thought to be his capacity, and his clothing was paying the price. His pristine white cravat was no more, dripping with red blood and melted chocolate. The strained buttons of his impeccable vest were buckling and struggling against his middle but helpless to resist the broad swell of his expanding girth. He felt the pressure rise, his clothing creaked, and with another swallow the first of his buttons finally popped off.

He groaned. How many had it been? His belly felt as bloated and round as a bus tire, straining the remaining buttons of his vest - his belt had popped open already, and his belly was held halfway by his open pants. His thighs and rump threatened to tear through the rest of the fabric, and the double-chin he sported ensured he wouldn't be able to hide the additional weight at the next sermon, not even behind the podium. Still, like a hog at trough, he ate. And ate. He wheezed and ate, huffed, trying to catch his breath around cheekfuls of wicked, sinful pleasure. It was as if he could feel himself inflating, bulging with fat, growing rotund under his clothes so much so that he doubted the cane with which he went everywhere would support him before long.

Zelda squeezed at his thick belly rolls, and pressed her lips behind his ear where she kissed him sweetly. "We certainly got your goat, didn't we? Oh, look. You're a mess." She retrieved a kerchief from her purse and wiped it over his face, cleaning some of the stains and getting a good look at him. He gazed urgently into her eyes, his framed by running eyeliner. An embarrassing moan escaped his red lips as Zelda kissed him, and from behind he felt Wardwell groping about his fattened form.

“How embarrassing for you,” Wardwell cooed, her fingernails like claws as she groped the bulging flab beneath his waistcoat, “all this fat is softening those sharp edges of yours…” Her hands reached around, groping the bulging growths of his pecs with exploratory motions. While she did, Zelda continued to feed him and let him lick, with a desperation he resented but could not help but give, the sweetness from between her fingers and her palm. Wardwell’s hands moved down along his sides, spilling out against the frame of the chair, and they slid over his buttocks with a light touch. That touch became deeper, a prurient grab to feel how much his rump had grown.

“Quit that,” Faustus grunted, his cheeks uncomfortably rosy.

“Come now, I’ve earned this. You get your sweets, and I get to measure your girth with my hands. My but you’ve gone soft…”

“Ugh, I’m a monster,” Faustus sighed, opening his mouth for a heaping handful of chocolate from the Spellman siren. He chewed laboriously and with every swallow felt his belly bulge tighter against his desk. It bulged over the papers there, long since covered in droplets of blood and the remnants of chocolate shells. The feeling of fullness overwhelmed him; patting his chest and belching softly didn’t do a thing to relieve it.

The empty boxes had piled up, dominating Faustus’ desk with their wanton innards, the little pleated brown papers that had held the delicate treats that had swollen him like a balloon. It did him ill to glance over them, stoking his dyspepsia and moistening his mouth with drool he refused to believe was attributable to further hunger.

“Satisfied yet?”

“Monumentally. I’ll eat until I _burst_ if this keeps up.”

He could feel Wardwell’s grin from across the room. “Zelda,” she began, “I think that sounds like a challenge, not an excuse.” Her heels clicked like cloven hooves as she circumvented the desk and placed her one hand on Faustus’ bulging side, the other into another one of the boxes. The candies, crushed between her fingers, somewhat resembled a bloated, beating heart, streaming with sweet blood. The red trailed down her arm, and she held her hand in front of Faustus’ face for just a moment, letting him take in the sight and the smell before cramming it all against his mouth.

“We’ll burst you in one way or another, you voracious slut.”


End file.
